


End of the world

by Willia



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Dragon Age Spoilers, End of the World, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Spoilers, end of the world sex, unromanced zevran
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-03-30 20:33:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13959459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willia/pseuds/Willia
Summary: “End of the world sex, then, my dear Warden?” Zevran’s voice was but a whisper.“End of the world sex,” she agreed, her lips twitching into a smile that was almost sincere.





	End of the world

**Author's Note:**

> This is not super canon-compliant but I did write this back when I didn't have a good grasp on the DAO timeline and other common fanons sooo... We'll all suspend our disbelief together.

"You are going to die, tomorrow, are you not?" said a voice above the Warden's head. She looked up. It was Zevran. He sat on a log next to her, the campfire's light reflecting on his closed face. The Warden breathed in.

"I think so, Zevran. It's either me or Alistair, and Alistair is too important to Ferelden. I am..." she shook her head, "expendable."

"Not to me," Zevran said, quickly, his voice soft.

The Warden let out a breathy laugh. Zevran picked up a branch and started ruffling through the fire. "For what it is worth, I do not wish you leaving, my friend. But it is not my choice," he said after a beat.

He looked up as the Warden distractedly covered the hand on his thigh with her own hand. She looked terribly tired, but not the fatigue kind, the kind that's only found in elders, who have lived too long and seen too much.

"I am thankful for the help and companionship you've given me," she said.

Zevran turned his hand around to squeezed hers.

"It is what friends do, or so I’ve heard. I only wish there were something more I could do about tomorrow."

"There isn't," the Warden's hand slipped away from his, leaving his palm empty and cold. She went back to looking at the ground, signalling the end of the conversation. Still staring at her, Zevran got up in a silent movement, but he only got a to walk a few steps towards his tent before–

"Unless there is." The Warden‘s voice was so low that the elf almost didn't hear it.

"There is?" he asked, turning back to face her. She got up, her eyes now fixed on him.

"It's not a solution." She waved her hand dismissively. "Not even the beginning of one. Think of this as...short term relief."

"You..."

"Join me in my tent," the Warden said. "Please," she then added, in a softer voice.

Zevran breathed in. He had never seen the Warden express any kind of desire for attachment other than friendship, let alone anything quite so personal, so he had just assumed she wasn't into that sort of things.

"I can't sleep. And it seems like you can't sleep either. Do you wish to join me in my tent?" she asked again.

Zevran considered it for a second. No harm could come if this, surely. His personal philosophy was to take every opportunity for fun – whether it be sex or not – and he himself would probably seek such companionship, if it was to be his last evening.

"I do," he finally replied.

The Warden turned around and started walking towards her tent, Zevran on her heels. He arranged a few loose strands of hair with a hand, the other smoothing his top with a uncharacteristically shaky hand. He frowned. Sex never made him nervous. Why the shaking?

When they reached the tent's entrance, the Warden raised her arm high against the cloth, so that Zevran could come in. His head brushed against her naked skin, and she shivered. The heavy cloth dropped back in place in a low swishing sound. The outside noises, now muffled, made it sound like the world was miles away. Or like they'd entered a dream.

The Warden just stood there for a second, swaying in place. She staggered closer to Zevran, and pressed their lips together. It wasn't loving. It wasn't soft. It was desperate and wet.

Zevran grabbed her head, and pulled it away from his. Tears were rolling down the Warden's face.

"Cariña..."

She didn't wipe her tears off, just pressed her hands on Zevran's shoulder blades and kissed him again.More passionately this time, like it'd make Zevran forget about the tears, forget about the desperation in her sighs, forget that her jaw was set and her eyes tired.

And it worked, he guessed. It worked, because Zevran grabbed her waist and pushed her softly against the lone tree she'd set her tent around. His lips left hers to kiss her jaw, her neck, the shoulders that he bared by pushing away her tunic. He looked back at her. Her eyes were half closed, and she was frowning ever so slightly. Her breath was heavy, and he could not tell whether it was a good sign.

"What do you want? I will do anything you need, my Warden," he said, pushing loose strands of hair from her face.

"No," she said.

"No?"

"I can't... don't want to give directions," she whispered. "I'm tired of taking all the decisions. I can't bear any more responsibility."

Zevran kissed her, softly, more softly than he intended.

"Then I will make the decisions, if it is what you wish," he said almost against her lips, his words landing warm on her skin.

"Yes," she breathed. "I've taken enough decisions for a lifetime."

The end of her last word was lost, as Zevran had started kissing her again. She moaned against his lips, and her body slumped ever so slightly against his.

He let one hand wander on her back, as the other one was getting lost in the tangle of her hair. It was the first thing he'd noticed about her. Her tangled hair. It wasn't such a mess that it was unhygienic or would limit her fighting skills, no, but she didn't seem to pay much attention to it and, left to move about the entire day, it always looked wild and messy. Like a forest, he'd thought, a bit foolishly, when he had first seen her. Dark and beautiful and dangerous. He had guessed many people had fallen for the Warden and her messy, messy hair. After all, he kind of had.

At first, he'd never expected to even be alive after his attempted assassination. But she'd let him live. And then, he never thought he would actually care about the Warden more than a man respects his saviour. But, day after day, respect slowly turned into actual care, and even, maybe...a bit of love. Just a little bit. But for Zevran, that was a lot more than he'd ever expected to feel for anyone again.

The Warden bit his bottom lip. Hard. Harder than he was prepared for.

"Ouch! What was that about?" he touched his lip from the tip of his finger and considered the blood on it.

"You're being too gentle. Why are you being so gentle?" Her tone was almost accusing.

Zevran licked his damaged lip and tasted the iron flavoured blood on his tongue.

"Because the world has not been gentle to you," he shrugged.

When he looked back up, the Warden's eyes were wet once again. She looked lost. Zevran had never seen her emotions so bare, never seen her so vulnerable. He'd always suspected she hid her emotions as he did, to make sure she appeared like a reliable leader; but actually seeing all of these feelings on her face was something else. It wasn't long before he could feel his own tears on his face.

"Don't cry," she said, her fingers tensing briefly on his back.

"Believe me, I would stop if I could.” A sad chuckle left his lungs.

She brought her face closer, and licked the cut she'd made in Zevran's lips. He shivered.

"Don't be too gentle, or I'll be even sadder," she said in a low voice.

Zevran nodded. He blinked away the last of his tears. When he opened his eyes she was looking at him, waiting, so he pushed her against the tree once more. Harder. He didn't let her gather herself from the surprise before he pressed his body to her, lips on her throat and hands gliding on the bare skin of her back.

He helped her remove her tunic and bandeau, leaving her bare chest to scrape and rub against the rough material of his own shirt. She moaned at the feeling, pressing herself closer, only letting him back away when she felt him reach for the bottom of his top. He removed it in one swift move, and stopped when he saw the Warden staring.

He had tattoos on his torso similar to the ones on his face, running along his muscles, long black lines interrupted here and there by white scars. The Warden's fingers hovered over the pale markings.

"You can touch them, they don't hurt anymore."

"There are so many," she breathed. "How did you get them?"

Zevran shrugged. "Some I got on missions, some are, let us say, memories from my Crow training."

Her eyes flicked upwards, eyebrows knit together, before returning her gaze to his skin. "What I saw in the the Fade, you being tortured by the Crows, it was a memory, wasn't it?"

"It was indeed. Proving that you can resist to pain is part of our training as young Crows."

"How old were you?" She locked eyes again, searching for something in them.

"I do not know. Too young, I suppose."

Her fingers traced over the largest scar, running from his shoulder to his abdomen.

"This one was from my fourth mission," Zevran said. "Got slashed by a dagger sharp as void." He heard the amusement in his own voice.

The Warden bent down, and kissed the highest part of his scar. Zevran choked on his chuckle. She left another kiss on his skin, farther down on the scar. And another. And another. Zevran's breath was quickening at every touch of the Warden's lips on his skin. His hand moved before he realised it, burying itself in her hair as his head fell backwards despite himself.  
When she reached the bottom of the marking, she brought her face back to his level. They stared at each other, so close she was blurry.

"What happened to not being too gentle?" The words sat at the top of his throat. "When did we drop it?"

"When I realised the world has not been gentle to you either," she said, echoing his words.

He smiled. It felt like a sad smile, the kind that one gets when any other emotion would be useless. His hand was still in her hair, and he twisted it softly. "Are you not going to get sadder?" he asked.

"I believe we’re past that," she said, and the end of her sentence got lost in a choked noise.

Zevran grabbed her face, and he kissed her. Slowly. Like a man in love, not like someone just looking for a fun night. He gently pushed her towards her cot, where they laid down somewhat clumsily, his hands holding her back. She looked up at him and pushed a strand of hair behind his ear, and that made him wish he didn't wear those braids that held his hair away from his face.

He looked at her, really looked at her, incapable of resisting it. His gaze wandered, on her brown eyes, her nose, the freckles here and there on the elements-battered skin, and she let him stare. After some time she closed her eyes, breathing out deeply before swallowing hard.

“End of the world sex, then, my dear Warden?” Zevran’s voice was but a whisper.

“End of the world sex,” she agreed, her lips twitching into a smile that was almost sincere.

 

* * *

 

Zevran wasn’t known for being a cuddler, having been used to constant vigilance and the very real possibility of being attacked at any moment, even in a nice evening’s afterglow.

But tonight was different. In so many ways. And his friend needed it, if the way her arms were wrapped around his torso were anything to go by. So he remained were he was, even letting his hand brush through her hair, untangling knots one by one. He thought she might have fallen asleep, when her muffled voice reached his ears.

“I’m sorry this has to end like this. I’d stay if I could.”

Zevran felt a bitterness settle in the back of his throat, and he did his best to ignore it. He hadn’t gone through so much without regretting anything to let this get the best of him.

 _This isn’t fair_ , he thought, but he said, “I will miss you, my dear Warden. You have given me much.” He felt his companion scoff more than he heard her, and he continued, pretending he hadn’t noticed, “I would not be alive were it not for you. I have a direction in life now, a reason to go forward.”

She didn’t respond anything to that, just snuggled closer.

A few minutes passed in silence, his hand now caressing her scalp as regularly as his shaking hands could manage, and this time it was he who spoke softly.

“Are you afraid?”

For a moment he thought she wouldn’t answer, either by choice or because she was already far into the Fade, but her voice rose then, trembling, matching the shake in her jaw that Zevran felt against his skin.

“I’m terrified, Zevran. I don’t want to die.”

Zevran’s hand spasmed against her scalp. He’d never heard her voice so bare, and it was horrifying. Like standing over a well you’ve known for a long time, only now realising just how deep it goes. Only now facing the fact that you could break your spine with one wrong move.

He wanted to reassure her, but there was nothing he could think of saying that would make the situation any easier. So he just pushed on his elbow and kissed the top of her head, before wrapping both of his arms tightly around her tensed body.

“Rest, my dear Warden. You are safe for tonight.”

“I am?” Her voice was child-like, and the tent above Zevran blurred.

“I shall watch over you, yes?” He forced as much enthusiasm as he had left in his words.

“Yes.” She sounded so far away already, and the trembling of her body slowly diminished as her breathing slowed down.

Zevran felt warm tears make their way down the sides of his face, and he sniffled softly. He couldn’t let go of her body, so he let the tears trace paths on his temples, collecting in his hair. He’d wipe the traces tomorrow, when the Warden would have left. When she’d have put on her armour, grabbed her daggers and marched to her very last big fight.

When she’d have saved the world.

He’d have plenty of time to wipe his tears then, he guessed.

**Author's Note:**

> Come chat on [Tumblr](https://stormthedarkcity.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
